DANGER: High Voltage
by Voltage X132
Summary: A mutant forced to hide her gift reaches the age where she can break free of her parents. Affiliations such as Xavier's Institute and the Brotherhood of Mutants seek her out, knowing now that her parents cannot legally make her decisions anymore.


13 is a big year for anybody. It's the year of seventh grade, when all of the hormones really kick into overdrive and so jumpstart the age of drama. Kids go through crazy metamorphoses.They begin to develop into the young adults they were meant to be. 13 could be a confusing and frightening year for anybody...But being 13 didn't involve everybody in life-impacting, medical episodes.  
A contortionist lay in the middle of a baking stage in a room stuffed with silent parents. The body twisted, arched, jerked, and bent in such a way that could make the performers of Cirque Du Soleil cringe and turn away. A cry of torment came from the body. Eyes grew wide at this strangely real performance. It was captivating and breathtaking.

"Mrs. Benedict! Mrs. Benedict!" wailed a sharp choir of distressed children. It had been just then that the parents new that this amazing feat of the flexible student was in no way related to her role as one of the "victims" of so-called with Bridget Bishop. It was an easy mistake, however, given that girls were writhing all over the stage at many points throughout the production.  
Hushed whispers filled the auditorium as a young woman, probably no older than 30 years of age, shuffled out onto the heated set, parting the bewildered young teens to give the gifted performance some room.  
The stage lights grew near blinding, now a burning white. Children shielded their delicate eyes, and those who had come to watch followed suit. Mrs. Benedict wiped her glistening hairline with the back of her hand and brushed a limp, golden curl behind her ear. "Dim the lights, Mr. Dewey!"

"I'm trying to!"

The lights had grown to such a strong glow that the adults took to using their programs to cast a shadow over their faces. Brilliant, steely blue irises centered by neverending pits of black glanced over at an affiliate whose bare head shone lividly in the intense, blazing luminescense. A slight smirk appeared on the man's aged facade as his affiliate turned his head to offer a smile. Both then returned their attention to center stage.

Glass fragmented, showering the cherry-oak scaffolding with glimmering shards. The light-source all together lessened. A bulb was pushed beyond its limitation and had burst. A second volley of glass splinters hit the same surface soon after. Followed by another, and another, until eventually it became a procession of shattering. It appeared to be something rather biblical.  
It was only a moment in which the baffled onlookers were left in the dark, for the normally white, flourescent auditorium lighting glared a menacing and unusual shade of orange. It was a sign of the end for the bulbs. It let the janitors know it was time to change them.

All at once, mothers, fathers, aunts, uncles, and grandparents were stormed with sharp shards of bulbs that had burst under pressure.  
Now a period of darkness. And pandemonium.

"Magnificent, Erik!" cried the bare-headed over disoriented family members, whose arms were now folded over their heads to ward away the razor-edged glass pieces. "You've a sharp eye."

"Come, Charles. Let us evacuate before something worse occurs," Erik suggesting, standing. His shirt, white locks were swept back neatly, and his casual suit suggested that sophistication was indeed his specialty. At full height, Erik stood a strong six feet. His companion, however, had not stood; He was confined to a wheelchair. Erik strode to the pace of this wheelchair, accompanying his old friend out of this school auditorium.

----------------------------------------------

"We will NOT allow our child to go to some...Some CRAZY institution for something she isn't!" spat a man at about 38 years of age. His piercing emerald eyes blazed furiously at at thought.

"Cole, please give these nice gentleman a chance to speak," quietly reasoned the man's life companion. She had always been the voice of reason in the house, and that wouldn't change infront of guests. She peered at the two aged men sitting before her, offering a gentle smile.

"Mr. Lehnsherr, please continue."

Erik returned the same kindness in his own smile, looking to Charles once before resuming. "Your daughter's epileptic fit last night was no ordinary seizure, Mrs. McNamara. It was a very grand emergence of her gift. A breathtaking arrival, I really must say."

"It wasn't ordinary because she doesn't HAVE an ordinary disorder, Mr. Lehnsherr," Cole snapped. "They give her a medication, it seems to work for a while, and her body creates an immunity to it!"

"Cole, honey, please let the man say what he has to say before you lunge at his throat."

"Adrienne, he has no idea what he's talking about! He--"

A single lifted finger put him on pause immediately. "You hush now."

"She has been blessed, madam. What my colleagueand I came today to offer and highly suggest she attend his learning institute, the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning. She will learn how to better control her gift and be put in an enriching, safe environment with other children such as herself," finished Erik.

Charles held a brouchure out toward Adrienne, seeing as Cole had ripped the first one up before she even got to glance at the cover. Intrigued brown optics scanned the pamphlet. "I assure you, she will be well taken care of. We have excellent staffing, and your daughter will get the personal attention she needs," he reassured with a comforting nod.

A pair of jade eyes peeking around the corner caught Erik's attention. "I apologize for interrupting," he said suddenly,"but may I have a word with your daughter?"

"No," Cole barked instantly.

Adrienne vetoed his call. "You may, Mr. Lehnsherr." She continued on to glaring at her husband.

The eyes quickly retreated as Erik stood and stepped toward them. He soon found himself in the kitchen with the 13 year old. A cordial countenance overcame his aged features; His deep azure eyes were rather welcoming and a warm smile played upon his lips. "Hello!"  
No answer. The girl cautiously eyed this stranger, keeping her distance.

"My name is Erik," he said softly, hoping that his first name would give the mindframe of speaking to a friend and not a superior. "Who would you be?"

"N-N-Nike," she stammered timidly. Her face began to flush out of embarrassment, her fair comlexion adopting a soft shade of crimson. Her sopping, cascading amber locks hung heavily along her back, its dark shade suggesting she had just come out of the shower. She had been completely unaware of the arrival of company.

"Nike, hmm? Like the Roman Goddess of Victory. It's a strong name...For a strong young lady, undoubtedly," he commented kindly. "So...I hear of some odd events...They occured last night."

Nike fidgeted nervously. "Yeah."

"Could you tell me what happened?"

"Well, last night I was in a play for school. I have this disorder called Progressive Myoclonic Epilepsy. The doctors told me its really rare it and its gonna be hard to treat. Well, I had a seizure last night while I was supposed to be acting, I don't know what happened during that, but I woke up on the stage with all the lights out and glass everywhere. Mrs. Benedict got electrocuted, too."

"Mhmm. Have you heard of mutants, Nike?"

"I saw some on TV. They have special powers," she replied plainly, obviously knowing very little. She paused, her brows furrowing. The gears cranked in her head, shown clearly by the look of thought. Two and two were put together, but this time the answer didn't quite turn out to be four. "Am I...?"

"Yes, my dear."

"And you...?"

"Indeed." Erik demonstrated, floating a silver spoon into the air with the lift of his hand.He brought it before Nike to spark some interest. She mused at the seemingly weightless piece of silverware. Suddenly, it crumped itself into a ball and flew out of the open window. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she looked up at this houseguest. He wore a clement grin at her reaction. "I can control metal objects. Make them do as I fancy."

"Wow..." the girl breathed in genuine awe. "What can I do?"

Lehnsherr chuckled. "My dear, you don't know what you can do? How am I to tell you that if you don't even know that yourself?"  
Nike averted her gaze to her feet.

"Judging by what had happened last night, I would say you can generate and manipulate electricity. To what degree, I could not tell you. You should be able to withstand your element. It will not harm you.

"But it does! Epilepsy is a disorder where the brain gets huge electrical pulses. I either have convulsions or seizures."

"It should not occur anymore."

The child's eyes brightened at the good news. "Really?"

"Really."

"This is the best thing to ever happen in my LIFE!"

Erik laughed softly. He always enjoyed this kind of enthusiasm. It was a lift compared to the usual reactions to the discovery of one's own active X-gene. He was glad to see a content mutant. She was proving to be promising already.

He reached up, unscrewing a 75-watt bulb from the overhead lighting fixutre. He placed it in the child's hands. "Can you light that up for me, Nike?"

Young McNamara peered quizically at the glass bulb, and then up toward Erik. "I...I don't know how."

"Focus. Feel your power leave your fingertips. Do not let the sensation be confined to your body. Release it."  
The bulb gave off a dim glow.

"Excellent. Do not be afraid, Nike."

A bright, white illumination. It looked as though as it had been a part of its original circuit. Lehnsherr had opened his mouth to give further praise until the ray grew brighter. The intensity sent him squinting in search of the young teen's face lost in the luminosity. Before he knew, shards of glass lay at her feet and only a smoking base remained among her fingertips. "I'm sorry, Erik..."

Three figures rushed to the open portal to the kitchen. Both parents' faces were filled with fear, as their natural instinct to rush to their child at the sound of broken glass directed them to worry. Charles Xavier, however, looked on in curiosity.

The wheelchair was first to enter, coming forth. Erik grinned at his partner. "Voltage," he confirmed. "She's very promising."

"Voltage. I will be sure to enter her into the records."


End file.
